


Sit a Spell

by CoffeeAndDreams



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, I kind of ship them, Missing Scene, Platonic Cuddling, Protectiveness, platonic for now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:07:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22166863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeAndDreams/pseuds/CoffeeAndDreams
Summary: Missing scene. Marta (and Benoit) are finally hit with just how close she came to dying. Crying and fluff ensues before she gets some coffee.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 191





	Sit a Spell

She lay on the floor staring up at the ceiling feeling her heartbeat pound in her ears. The weight of Ransom’s body was off hers since the officers dragged him away, but she still felt like she was falling. He tried to kill her. It was only through sheer luck that he’d chosen the fake knife. Luck. That’s all it was: luck. Her vision was blurry. Maybe she was crying. Was she? No, not crying—just in shock. Marta felt like there were miles between her mind and her body. All she could really feel was a warmth on the side of her face, so she focused on that. 

“Ms. Cabrera? Marta, can you hear me?” Detective Blanc said. He put a hand on the side of her face and tried to get her eyes to focus on him. “Oh, dear girl, I am so sorry. I very seriously miscalculated the risk that Mr. Drysdale posed.” Her hand tentatively brushed against the one he had on her cheek, but her eyes were still wide and frightened. “The you go,” he encouraged. “Eyes on me, Ms. Cabrera.” It took an awful lot of effort, but Marta managed to meet the worried gaze of the man kneeling next to her. Her lips moved like she wanted to say something, but for the life of her, Marta had no idea what words to use in a situation like this. Benoit smiled and said, “It’s okay. It’s done now. You want to sit up?” She nodded and he took one hand in his own, then slipped the other behind her shoulders and eased her into a seated position. The blood rushed from her face and dark spots swam in front of her eyes. Marta knew she was about to pass out. When she heard Blanc’s voice it was like she was listening underwater.

“Whoa! Whoa—easy there. I’ve got you.” He leaned her forward so she was resting against his chest and shoulder, so he could hold her up if she lost consciousness. “There now. I’ve gotcha.” Her body was shaking, and she would have ended up sprawled out on the floor again if Benoit didn’t keep her in a semi-upright position. “You’re safe now.” He kept murmuring quiet reassurances until her head cleared enough that she could support herself. Blanc kept a hand near her elbow just in case, but Marta blinked several times and nodded that she was alright. “You need some water. Gonna be okay if I pop over to the kitchen for a second?” She nodded and Benoit got to his feet with a grunt. 

Marta looked around the room. She needed to get up to do…something…right? Despite feeling incredibly wobbly, Marta tried to get to her feet. The room tipped suddenly, and she dropped down to her hands and knees. If she had the presence of mind, Marta might have been embarrassed that Detective Blanc walked in to find her in a sad version of a yoga position. He rushed to her side, put the glass of water down on the floor, and helped her struggle to her feet.

“Don’t go passing out on me,” he said, watching her face go ashen again. “You’re a feather-light little thing, but I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“M’okay,” she whispered in a way that was not at all convincing. 

“Well, I know you’re technically the medical professional here, but I know shock when I see it.” They slowly made their way towards the smaller sitting room and he eased her down on the sofa. Blanc retrieved her water and then sat down next to her. “Your hands steady enough to hold this?” he asked. The answer, it turned out, was not really and he wrapped a hand around hers to keep from spilling half the water down her sweater. She took a few sips and then nodded that she was done. Benoit pulled the blanket off the back of the sofa and wrapped it around her shoulders. “You’re shaking like a leaf,” he said. 

“I’m cold.”

“I know, dear girl. It’ll pass. It’s a normal reaction to this sort of thing.”

“Do you have a lot of experience with people almost being stabbed to death?” Her affect was surprisingly neutral—as if she was genuinely curious about the number of times he’d assisted someone through an attempted homicide. His lips tugged upwards.

“More than the average person, but never one with such dramatic flair.”

Marta shivered and he tutted and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

“How can I help, Marta? Maybe I should call for a doctor. Do doctors still make house calls or has that fallen out of favor like so many other things?”

It earned him a half-hearted smile at best. Another chill shook through her and Blanc took Marta’s hands in his. “Like ice,” he muttered and rubbed her fingers between his larger hands. 

“Detective Blanc?” she whispered.

“Oh, I think we’re on a first name basis by now.” He squeezed her hands and Marta turned to look him in the eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Benoit, are you…you’re sure I didn’t kill Harlan?”

“Oh, my dear girl, I am absolutely positive. You didn’t harm a hair on his head.” Marta’s jaw trembled and her eyes filled with tears. “I know,” he sighed and pulled her towards him. In truth, he was surprised it had taken so long for the tears to start, and he got a handkerchief out of his pocket for her. “Why don’t we sit a spell and you just have a good cry, hm?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Nonsense. You’ve been put through the ringer and then some. You’ve certainly earned some tears.” He tucked her head against his shoulder and leaned back into the plush sofa. What started as quiet tears quickly turned into sobs as the fear and grief from the last week hit Marta hard. As much as it pained him the hear her cry, Benoit knew it was good for her to get some of it out he couldn’t help but feel honored that she trusted him enough to let him see her like this. Of course, it was partially his fault for so severely underestimating the danger he’d put her in. He’d have never forgiven himself if young Mr. Drysdale had managed to hurt her. His relentless quest for the truth had almost cost the young woman her life. Partially to make her feel better, and partially to make himself feel better, Benoit brushed the hair back from her face and held her a little tighter.

It took a while, but eventually Marta settled down until it was just an occasional hiccup as she caught her breath. She continued to lean against the Detective until she was surprised by a huge yawn. Benoit chuckled and patted her shoulder.

“Bless your heart. You must be worn through,” he said. Reluctantly, she sat up and took a deep breath.

“I’m exhausted,” she said. “But I feel better. Thank you for…well for all of it.”

“Think nothing of it. I’m terribly sorry you had to endure such a difficult few days.” She smiled at him.

“Gravity’s Rainbow, right?”

“The inevitable conclusion,” he agreed. He placed his hands on his knees. “I don’t know about you, Ms. Cabrera, but I could go for a very strong cup of coffee. Can I bring you one as well?”

“Sounds great. Thank you.”


End file.
